


Sleepover

by CerebralGanglion



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, First Time Blow Jobs, Foot Fetish, Foot Jobs, M/M, Scent Kink, Socks, Spit As Lube, Spit Kink, Sweat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 19:19:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14432376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CerebralGanglion/pseuds/CerebralGanglion
Summary: Stiles had always loved sleepovers.





	Sleepover

**Author's Note:**

> https://filthypeanuts.tumblr.com/

Stiles had always loved sleepovers. He could spend even more time with his friends…or, well, best friend, since there weren’t too many other people around, except Scott, who Stiles would gladly spend a night in a room with. When they were younger, it was just that; staying up late, eating junk food, playing video games, and talking about stuff they wanted to do in the future. These days, things were a little different.  
  
It had been two years since Stiles had realized that he was into dudes. He’d told Scott pretty much immediately, and the boy didn’t care whatsoever – on the contrary, he seemed interested and intrigued. What Stiles didn’t tell Scott, was the things that specifically made him go wild just thinking about them. Skipping showers, not changing your underwear or socks for days, working up a sweat – the list was endless.   
And nothing on that list would’ve been a problem, it could’ve all just been something Stiles did in the privacy of his own room, when he was alone. However, as they grew a little older, Stiles noticed that Scott, being the carefree teenage boy that he was, started to do exactly those things; it was no rarity for him to show up at Stiles’ place after practice, without taking a shower. It wasn’t surprising when he took his socks off in Stiles’ room and massaged his own, fevered soles, telling his best friend about how much they were hurting because he’d pushed himself. 

Stiles had been so damn good about it all. He ignored it, didn’t even offer to take over the massaging part whenever given the chance, not wanting to pressure Scott or make him feel weird about the nights spent cooped up in a small room together. Even the times Scott stayed over and went to bed like that, still smelling all sweaty and musky and just so damn delicious – Stiles did nothing about it! He covered his constant hard-on as best as he could and didn’t say anything so Scott wouldn’t feel bad about it. But as things went on like that for a while, it was no surprise that Stiles would one day break under the pressure.

It was during their summer break. They’d been out all day, gotten sticky with sweat, then later returned to Stiles’ to eat, watch a movie or two, and then go to bed. Their stink filling the room, especially Scott’s pits and crotch, was enough to make Stiles’ mouth water. His own feet weren’t any better, really, neither was his crack, so he figured; if Scott didn’t bother to shower, he wouldn’t either. Turns out, that’s what made things go the way they did.   
  
After their second movie, Scott was already half-asleep. He offered Stiles to help with the cleanup, but Stiles just told his friend to lie down already, he’d throw their pizza cartons out, and then join him as well. Scott just replied with a goofy, sleepy grin and flopped down on the floor next to Stiles’ bed, like he usually did.  
Stiles threw their trash out, went to the toilet one more time, debating whether he should jerk off real quick, but deciding Scott might notice if he was gone for too long, then simply went back to his room instead.  
  
That’s when he saw it. Scott had taken his shirt and shorts off – obviously – but this time, he also pulled his socks off. He didn’t do that usually. Stiles had never had a chance like this, so…who could blame him for what happened next?  
  
Scott was already asleep, snoring softly with his mouth hanging open a little. Stiles barely made sure of that, before he went to grab those sweat-damp socks, hold them to his nose, and inhale deeply. The moment he did that, he knew it had been a mistake, because a second later, he was sniffing those sweaty things like a crazed animal and couldn’t help but squeeze and grope at his crotch desperately. If it hadn’t been for Scott turning over, mumbling a little in his sleep, Stiles would’ve probably busted right then and there. Like this, however, he figured it would probably be best to pause, and take care of his erection in the morning, when Scott was gone. However, nothing could stop Stiles from the, admittedly crazy and stupid, idea of putting Scott’s socks on himself. In his mind, Stiles just hoped his friend wouldn’t notice, and he could later come while sniffing his own feet, reeking of his best friend and himself.

With that thought, and a huge grin on his face as he wiggled his toes in the damp heat of the stolen fabric, Stiles went to bed as well.  
  
But of course, that’s not how things turned out in the end. Stiles woke up to a strange sensation, and an awkward coldness on his…feet? He blinked in confusion as he rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling and wiggling his toes a little. They felt strangely wet – not damp, like the night before, but actually wet. And when he flexed them the right way, he could feel them press against something even more wet and sloppy, but soft. He didn’t realize what was happening, until he heard Scott, making a whimpering noise, followed by a drawn out moan.  
  
Furrowing his brows, Stiles propped himself up on his arms to stare down at himself, and boy, was he unprepared for what he found there: Scott was sitting at his feet, his face flushed, his eyes wide with innocent but genuine shock. His lips were wet with spit, and there was a string of it still connected to Stiles’ big toe.   
  
Stiles didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to – instead, he just stared back at Scott, with his mouth hanging open in an expression caught between shock and lust. As he continued to stare down at his best friend, he noticed Scott’s eyes flickering from left to right, up and down, as if he was debating whether he should get away already, whether he should say something, whether he should do anything at all. It was almost as if he was trying to say something along the lines of; ‘I thought you’d want me to.’ And, well, that wasn’t far from the truth.  
  
It barely took him a moment to decide what he should do about this. Stiles swallowed around a lump in his throat, then, mustering all the courage he could find within himself, pressed his big toe, which was still connected to Scott’s lip, forward again, until it was pressing into his mouth. Scott’s eyes impossibly widened even more, and Stiles could feel a gasp against his wet skin, making him shiver a little as it ran up his leg. But soon after, Scott figured out what to do. He kissed Stiles’ toe softly, then ran his tongue over the pad of it, whimpering again, as if he was still unsure whether what he was doing was really alright.  
But Stiles made sure not to leave any doubts about that. He moaned, and grabbed at his crotch. “Good boy, Scotty,” he whispered, blinking down at his best friend, who seemed to immediately perk up at the praise. Scott let his tongue swipe over Stiles’ toe again, smiling happily when it elicited the same reaction again. He was being a good boy for Stiles. He was doing a good job. Stiles liked what he did. And he didn’t need to know any more than that.  
  
Scott continued to do what he seemed to have been doing for a while even before Stiles woke up. At some point, he must’ve noticed Stiles wearing his socks, couldn’t help but smell them curiously, and was so damn turned on by them that he couldn’t help but need to taste. He must’ve taken the socks off carefully, then pressed his nose in between Stiles’ damp, sour toes, and sniffed at them, before finally sucking them into his mouth – which was exactly what he was doing now.  
There was still the occasional whimper, the odd moan once in a while as Scott sucked on Stiles’ toes, and licked the sensitive spots in between. By the time he’d reached Stiles’ soles, they were already dripping with saliva. At that point, Stiles was so hard and desperate, he couldn’t stop himself from taking his cock out to start jerking it along with Scott’s licking and sucking.   
  
Scott noticed, of course, and eyed Stiles’ slender cock curiously. He plopped off his friend’s toes for the moment, then swallowed nervously as he got his own cock out as well. It had been hard ever since he started sniffing Stiles, and by now, he was pretty much leaking in a constant stream of precum. Scott watched Stiles jerk, did the same to his own cock, while occasionally kitten licking in between Stiles’ toes. They were shiny and slippery with spit by now.  
  
Scott, truthfully, had thought about getting it on with a guy occasionally, ever since Stiles admitted that he was into dudes. It had been a fantasy, he’d imagined a few things he might wanna try here and there, but the situation he found himself in now, gave Scott a whole new idea.   
“Here…let me, please,” he mumbled as he climbed Stiles’ bed, still staring at his friend nervously, even as he lowered his head in front of Stiles’ dick. Stiles, in turn, didn’t need any other warning. He pulled his hand away from his erection, to instead stroke Scott’s cheek and grin down at him. “Yeah man…go for it,” he encouraged, which was all Scott needed to hear as he wetted his lips one more time, and then began sucking on the half-exposed head of Stiles’ cock, just as he’d done with his big toe: First he just suckled on it, then let his tongue explore, even going as far as sliding it underneath Stiles’ foreskin, moaning at the musky taste and the scent that was at least as good, if not better than Stiles’ feet.  
  
Stiles knew he wouldn’t last; Scott might not have been practiced, but he was eager, and sloppy, and so tender, and it was everything Stiles had needed. He didn’t care that Scott barely managed to get an inch of his dick into his mouth to suck on – it was enough.   
But Stiles was not selfish; if he’d come like this, Scott would too. Using his slicked up feet, Stiles formed a tunnel around Scott’s own leaking cock, by pressing his soles together. Scott whimpered when he felt the skin on skin contact, his hips bucked forward almost immediately, making lewd squelching noises as his cock spat another drop of pre, as it was slicked and lubed up by his own drool.  
  
Stiles chuckled softly when Scott whimpered and whined yet again, whenever his friend would stop moving his feet back and forth for just a moment. “So needy,” Stiles cooed, carding his hands through Scott’s hair. “Wanna come on my feet Scotty? I’ll let you lick it off afterwards.”  
Now, if that wasn’t encouragement enough, nothing would be. Scott paused for a moment, moaned helplessly, then started working Stiles’ cock even more eagerly. He was still focusing on the sensitive head of his cock, but it was enough for Stiles – inexperienced and so damn horny. He moved his feet in rhythm with Scott’s thrusts as he came into his best friend’s mouth; Scott managed to swallow half of it, but the rest was dripping out of his mouth, or landed on his lips and cheeks. As soon as he tasted Stiles’ release, tasted the raunchy, bitter cum of his friend, Scott came as well, cursing under his breath as he shot a dozen times, coating Stiles’ feet entirely with his pungent, ripe cum.  
  
Even then, they weren’t done yet; just like Stiles promised, he let Scott get back down to his feet, to clean his own mess up – which took quite a while, with the sheer amount of it.   
Afterwards, they switched. Scott told Stiles he didn’t need to, it was fine, he was happy how it was and he’d take what he was offered gladly, but Stiles insisted: he sucked Scott off, making him come in record time, all the while he was whining about how fucking good he felt.  
  
Stiles came for a second time when he used Scott’s feet, and let his friend finger his hole for a bit. After both of their third loads, shot across each other’s chest and stomach (or, in Stiles’ case, up to Scott’s chin), they decided that this needed to happen again. And again. And again. Sleepovers became even more of a regular thing between them, and they were much more fun as well.


End file.
